


Cherries With a Chance of Flour Storms

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts [31]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Birthday, Cooking, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Silly, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 15:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17409434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonage.Warden-Commander Amell wants to make something special for Warden-Constable Roland Gilmore's Name day. She enlists the aid of the Keep's head cook. Things don't go exactly as planned.





	Cherries With a Chance of Flour Storms

**Prompt 6:** [Visual Prompt](<https://c.stocksy.com/a/UxM500/z9/1279896.jpg>)

 

“Pleeeeeease?” She fluttered her lashes and pouted her already pouty lips. It was really a disgraceful show for a woman of her rank. Then again, the “arlessa” seldom did anything with grace, unless it was magic.

 

The cook sighed raggedly, wondering once again who she had offended to be sent to this turnip of a “keep” out on the arse-end of Ferelden. This was nothing like Montsimmard. Her superior had said, “Wardens are Wardens and always appreciate good food, even dog lords.”

 

“Very well, my lady. I shall teach you how to make a clafoutis,” the cook, Olivia, grumbled. “But you had better pay attention! I do not like my time to be wasted!” the elder woman shook her rolling pin menacingly.

 

“Bien sûr!” the Warden-Commander happily chirped. “I hope Rory will like this! I want to surprise him, it’s his Name day!”

 

The mage proved to be a quick study, even when Olivia lapsed into her native Orlesian when giving instructions. The cook only realized her gaffe when the Commander had blinked and asked what “cerises noires” were.

 

“I’ve never heard of black cherries before. I’ve only seen red ones,” the younger woman added.

 

“When did you learn to speak--”

 

“Orlesian? When I was still in the Circle. A healer from Val Royeaux’s Circle came to fill a vacant post, her name was Chloe. She taught me. She also mentored a friend of mine,” the Warden’s smile was small and sad.

 

They fell into a companionable silence, aside from one giving the other instructions. An hour later, the pan was pulled from the oven while the pair eyed the fruit-filled confection cautiously. Olivia cautious stabbed a tiny piece from the edge and nibbled.

 

“A bit sweet, but it is good enough… for a first attempt.”

 

“Well, let’s make more, then? I know for a fact Rory eats like his legs are hollow,” the mage laughed.

 

Later, the kitchen was left in a mess of dirtied pots and pans and bits of flour nearly everywhere. It would take the kitchen help hours to get everything clean again, Olivia thought with despair. She regretted mocking the arlessa for being reluctant to use fire magic to relight the ovens. She’d egged the mage on, who rose to the bait and summoned a small flicker of fire. Almost immediately after, the Warden had panicked and summoned a bit of storm magic, the wind knocking over a bag of flour and carrying the white powder to all corners of the room. By some miracle, none of the three clafoutis made had been damaged in the chaos.

 

A mage who panicked at the sight of fire was somehow the “Hero of Ferelden?” Perhaps the locals had low standards for heroism, Olivia pondered as she witnessed the mage trying, and failing, to get at least some of the flour out of her normally raven hair. Finally giving up, Commander Sevarra picked up two of the pans holding calfoutis and ambled toward the dining room.

 

Roaring laughter confirmed that the Warden-Constable had returned and that he had gotten a good look at the Commander. Peeking through the doorway, Olivia watched as the mage offered one of the pans to the considerably taller warrior. They were plopped comfortably in dining chairs, chatting while Rory wolfed down first one and then another pan of the fruit-filled treats. The Commander was talking animatedly, gesturing wildly.

 

The arlessa seldom did anything gracefully, the cook thought again with a shake of her head.


End file.
